


I wish I could hold you through it

by Kybee1497



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, and rose molina, based on my own experiences, because writing fic is cheaper than therapy, fuck I’m sorry, im so sorry, no beta we die like the himbos, oh heck, probably a tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kybee1497/pseuds/Kybee1497
Summary: Lately it felt like Julie’s spark was flickering. She hadn’t played since her mom had gone into the hospital. She didn’t have time. Why would she leave her mom to play when she could spend as much time as possible soaking it all in. Besides her mom was still here. She was tired but she was still here, she was laughing and smiling. That was enough for now. That could be her spark.
Relationships: Carlos Molina & Julie Molina, Carlos Molina & Julie Molina & Julie Molina's Mother & Ray Molina, Julie Molina & Julie Molina's Mother, Julie Molina's Mother/Ray Molina
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	I wish I could hold you through it

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so buckle up kiddos. Trigger warning for death and grieving and all the emotional shit that comes with it. It was cathartic for me to write but I don’t want to screw up anyone else’s healing process. 
> 
> That being said, this is heavily, heavily influenced by my grandma dying in July of 2019. She had had health issues all my life and they just stockpiled up. Eventually they gave her 2 weeks. She’s a badass and made it 5 weeks. We spent those 5 weeks by her side and I tried to get ready for finals while spending time with her. It was both a wonderful time and one of the most traumatic things in my life so I tried to channel that here. Anyways. This is intense and I cried writing it so I’m sorry.

There were good days and bad days. Something that no one tells you about losing your mom, is that there are good days. That it’s not all heartbreak. There are days when sitting around the bed, all together for once, feels like a gift and not a curse. Days where laughter echoes louder than tears. Days where everything feels okay again. Like maybe the world isn’t ending. Like it won’t all come crashing down in a few weeks, a few days. 

Thursday was a good day. Thursday was Julie walking into her mom’s hospital room, talking before she fully entered the room. Recounting the school day and Carrie, who had the most god awful opinions on the novel they had finished earlier that week. Tossing her bag in the chair, she sat on the side of the bed. Talking with her hands as her mom grinned up at her. 

“She wasn’t an idiot, Mom, or a vapid bitch. It’s obviously satire about the harsh expectations on women and how many things can go wrong. How did we even read the same novel? I swear she has no idea what she’s talking about!” 

Amused at Julie’s rant, her mom grinned up at her, taking the hand that Julie had stopped waving around. Gently running the pad of her thumb over the back of Julie’s hand, her mom nodded along as Julie talked. Happy to see her daughter smiling for the first time in weeks. 

Thursday was laughter, bursting from the chest. A loud, joyous sound that had no business being in a hospital room. Thursday was tired eyes, sparking with happiness. It was noses scrunched up in funny faces and grins splitting weary faces. A flurry of motion and energy and hands hitting knees while arms clutched each other. It was rocking together as giggles took over. Thursday was Julie going through memes on her phone, deciding which one was best suited to set off another wave of rolling laughter or which vine of a cute puppy would make her mom’s smile the brightest. Thursday was a brief moment of pure joy and happiness. It was also the last hug Julie got from her mom. The last bone breaking, made of pure love, hug. Thursday was the last good day. If the universe had any sympathy, it would have been the last day.

And then it was Saturday.

There are bad days. Everyone knows this. Everyone expects bad days. The pain, the grief, the tears. She didn’t anticipate how much it would hurt though. How different it would feel when it was her mom. Her mom, who always had a smile for her. Her mom, whose hugs just enveloped her, made her feel safe. Like nothing could ever get her if her mom was holding her. 

Her mom who always wanted to hear about her day. “I dropped you off at school and then what happened, mija? Tell me everything” 

Her mom who passed along her love of music. Who spent hours and hours on end, sitting on the piano bench in the studio. Patiently explaining over and over. Just laughing and going over it again when tiny Julie pouted that “it was so much more fun to just listen to you play, Mom. Can’t you just play and I’ll listen? Playing is hard, I can learn later!” Her mom would just laugh and say “C’mon Julie, find that spark! You love the piano. It’s time you learned how to play it yourself and one day soon you’ll be better than me.” 

It was her mom’s favorite thing to say. “Julie, life tries to keep you down in the dark. Don’t let it. Find that spark.” All you need is one spark to chase all the shadows away. 

And she was right. Music became Julie’s spark. It was the thing that got her up in the morning and kept her going through the day. She poured her heart and soul into it turning her bad days, and good days, into songs. And through it all her mom was right there playing beside her. Her high, clear voice a perfect match for Julie’s strong, rich one. Her mom was her go-to sounding board when the lyrics just wouldn’t come out the way she wanted them to. When the words were caught in her chest and she wasn’t sure how to get them out, her mom would just smile and say, “Why don’t we take a look and see what we can do.” While music was her spark, her mom was so tightly wound up with it that Julie couldn’t really distinguish between the two. 

But lately Julie’s spark was flickering. She hadn’t played since her mom had gone into the hospital. She didn’t have time. Why would she leave her mom to play, when she could spend as much time as possible soaking up the last bit of time with her. Her mom was still here, tired, but still here and she was laughing and smiling. That was enough for now. That could be her spark.

But then it was Saturday. 

Saturday was dim lights and drawn blinds, tip toeing steps, and whispered words. It was unfocused eyes, slowly dropping tears and red noses drip, drip, dripping. Grim faces and clenched teeth. Saturday was everyone in chairs gathered round the bed, afraid to leave to eat, to stretch, to go to the bathroom, to sleep. Saturday was eyes fixed on her mother’s chest and counting the seconds between each slow breath. Saturday was dread blooming, spreading, gripping as the seconds between each of her mom’s breaths grew longer and longer. Saturday was curling up in a chair, eyes finally closing as Julie fell asleep holding her mom’s hand. It was waking up and frantically searching for the next rise of her mom's chest, and the crushing wave of relief when it finally appeared, shallow, but still there. Saturday was dark. Saturday was what losing her mom felt like. What everyone always said it would be. Saturday was a kiss to the forehead and a silent prayer of please, please be here when I get back. I’m not ready yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Saturday was being afraid to let go. It was the guilt for being grateful it’s Saturday, and her mom’s chest still rises and falls, and this wasn’t what she wanted. Saturday was long. Saturday was Sunday, Saturday was Monday. 

Saturday was gone and her spark was dim. Less a spark and more a weak glow, hard to see but still there, technically. Because it was Monday. It was Monday and Julie wonders if maybe her mom being here isn’t enough. That soft voice in the back of Julie’s mind whispers that maybe it would be better if she wasn’t here at all. 

Monday was bad. It was the lingering smell of vomit saturating the air. It was holding back hair and holding up buckets. It was cool towels and warm blankets. Monday was quiet. It was stark, terrified faces because they knew what this meant. 

Monday was her dad at the head of the bed, bent over her mom and whispering in her ear. Julie can’t understand the words but they’re soft and his voice catches every once and awhile. Monday was Julie curled up in her trusty chair, holding her mom’s hand and praying. She wasn’t sure what she was praying for anymore. Maybe for her mom to get better. Maybe for her mom to just go. Maybe for it all to just stop. Monday was Oh God, please anything but this. 

Monday was watching her mom go through the pattern of sleeping and throwing up and sleeping again. It was wishing there was something she could do to make it all better. It was hallucinations and her mom’s hand stroking the little ghost puppy in her lap. It was her mom’s face when she quietly said “There isn’t a little dog in my lap. Is there?” And Julie forcing a smile “No mama, there isn’t, but that’s okay. You see him, so I’ll keep him safe.” Then picking up the little ghost puppy, light as air, and moving him to the foot of the bed where he’s out of the way and won’t fall. 

Monday was the crushing realization that this is it. There won’t be a miraculous hail mary to save her mom. There’s no coming back from this. Monday was realizing that for once in her life there is no getting better, it just gets worse until one day it just stops. Monday was devastation. 

Julie’s spark is fading with every second. The dim glow fades further until it flickers and sputters. Because it’s Tuesday.

Tuesday is a feeling in the air when Julie wakes up. A tension that she can’t shake no matter what she does. Tuesday is walking downstairs after her shower to find her dad at the stove. Tuesday is everything in her going still when he turns and she sees his eyes, the phone still in his hand. Tuesday is numbness. Tuesday is crying silently and not even feeling it. It’s holding her brother's hand as they sit on the stairs, watching as their dad paces. Phone in hand and other hand in his hair as he makes the necessary calls. Tuesday is Tia Victoria showing up at half past eleven. Ushering them out of the cold, empty house and out to lunch because you need to eat mijos. 

Tuesday is the realization that it’s finally over and Julie doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to do with the heavy feeling in her chest that just won't go away. Her mom is free but Julie is just… empty.

It’s Tuesday when her spark flickers and dies.


End file.
